


Vinny and Tony on vacation

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Vinny gets a life [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3906328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anton comes up to Sudbury in early July.</p>
<p><i>im gonna make u c the nickel</i>, Thomas sends, and Anton’s quick with a <i>nvm not coming</i>, but he sends Thomas flight information five minutes later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vinny and Tony on vacation

Anton comes up to Sudbury in early July. 

_im only coming because ur in a frigid hellscape_ , Anton texts him beforehand. It’s 27 degrees and there’s no breeze, a stiff, sticky summer, but Thomas is well aware of the heat wave that hit Hartford, thanks to about a million texts from Anton complaining. Anton had popped up to Montreal, is there now, and it’s even worse there, island humidity bringing things up to a miserable 40, so Thomas was the opposite of tempted to go to Montreal right now.

_im gonna make u c the nickel_ , Thomas sends back, and Anton’s quick with a _nvm not coming_ , but he sends Thomas flight information five minutes later.

“They made me stop in Toronto,” Anton says with a grimace when Thomas comes to pick him up. “It’s uncivilized.”

“You’re uncivilized,” Thomas says cheerfully, and Anton throws in a noogie with the hug he gives Thomas.

“C’mon,” Thomas says. “Nickel time.”

“No fucking way, loser,” Anton says. 

Thomas isn’t a sadist. Anton looks tired from travel, short as it was, and also the nickel works better as a threat than a reality. He blows the nickel now, and what can he torture Anton with, hiking? Anton would probably enjoy hiking, after complaining for an hour or two. He would definitely turn it into a competition. 

Instead he drives Anton home, stopping at Dairy Queen on the way, because it may not be hot as Hartford or Montreal, but it’s still hot. Thomas thinks they deserve ice cream.

Anton gets a Dilly Bar, because he is actually the most boring person Thomas knows, and Thomas mocks him mercilessly through bites of his cake Blizzard, which Anton steals at least three bites from unrepentantly while Thomas is distracted by the need to mock.

“You’re staying in my room,” Thomas tells him. He’s not embarrassed or anything, they have a nice house, he was born there (not _there_ , but you know). It’s home. But he’s been to Anton’s parents’ place in Hartford, and while Thomas wouldn’t call it a mansion, that’s only because Anton would get super defensive if he did, because it is definitely a mansion. Anton basically has a _wing_. The pool is everything Thomas could dream of. It has a slide. “I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your room,” Anton says.

“It’s a fold out,” Thomas says. “It’s cool.”

Anton huffs like the argument isn’t over, but he leaves it for now, and even lets Thomas handle his bag, so he’s clearly feeling generous.

Thomas’ room is basically the same as it was when he left for Juniors, so there are a bunch of Habs posters peeling at the edges and a shelf of plastic trophies. He’s lucky -- he gets to live the dream, mostly. When he was a kid he wanted to lead the Habs to a Stanley Cup. If they get there, he’ll be on the bench, but that’s okay, because it’s his team, has been since he was old enough to choose to cheer for a different team than his dad (Nordiques, what a joke). Anton’s team was Hartford, unsurprisingly, and the only thing that’s surprising is how much he hates the Whalers now, like the rest of the team hates the Nordiques or the Leafs or the Sens. Or the Bruins, obviously, but they are all a completely united front in that. 

Anton maybe has daddy issues, a little, and Thomas will never ever tell him that because he thinks Anton would stop being his friend, and nothing’s worth that. He doesn’t get it, because Vladimir is an incredible goalie and a pretty nice guy, has been great to Thomas ever since Anton introduced them, which he thinks just makes Anton angrier. It’s definitely a better idea to hit up Sudbury than Hartford, not just because Thomas would probably die in the heat, because he is a fragile flower about that shit (Fournier’s words, not his). Thomas’ parents like Anton, and Anton likes them, and that makes Thomas happy, because he is not a crazy person like Anton is.

Anton inspects Thomas’ trophies, idly smoothes down the edges of the Habs poster nearest him. “Cool,” he declares, and Thomas grins at him. 

“My dad’s barbecuing,” Thomas says. “Burgers and corn on the cob. Cool?”

“Sounds good,” Anton agrees.

“You want a nap first?” Thomas asks.

“Nah,” Anton says, so they’re chilling in front of the TV when Thomas’ mom gets home.

Anton gets up to give her a hug and help her put the groceries away, because he’s a suck up. She’d make Thomas help if he didn’t, though, so Thomas is fine with it, because it means he doesn’t have to leave his slouch on the couch. 

Anton also helps Thomas’ dad with the barbecuing, the two of them gesturing and looking serious over the grill while Thomas and his mom roll their eyes at each other before she puts him to work on the salad. He tries to protest that a salad makes it too many vegetables, but she isn’t impressed by the argument. 

“Don’t fall for it dad, Anton burns everything he touches,” Thomas yells through the open window when his dad gives Anton a turn on the grill.

Anton gives him the finger. 

Anton does burn the burgers, or at least one of them, which of course is the burger Thomas ends up with. Rude. He also pretty much falls asleep on Thomas’ shoulder when they’re watching a movie after dinner, like that tiny bit of travel tuckered him out, when they travel constantly for work. His parents smile fondly at Anton, because they clearly are not aware he’s ridiculous.

Thomas shakes his shoulder at the end of the movie, and Anton jerks upright. “Go to bed,” Thomas says, and Anton rubs his eyes and obeys without protest, which says something about how tired he is.

The next morning Anton pokes him awake at nine, and they go for a jog before it gets too hot. Thomas hates running, so of course Anton loves it, and jogs backwards for a bit, taunting Thomas into keeping up. 

“I missed this,” Anton tells him, while Thomas is grimly ignoring a shin splint. “It’s been too hot.”

Anton _would._ Thomas, on the other hand, will take literally every type of cardio over running forever and ever amen. Which Anton knows. This must be payback for the threat of the nickel.

It’s another chill day, and Anton’s got a fair amount of chill, but maybe not as much as Thomas does, during the offseason. After dinner he starts to look a little fidgety.

“Want to go out, watch the Expos game?” Thomas asks. 

“Watch the Expos get thrashed, you mean,” Anton says, but looks grateful. 

Thomas doesn’t live super far from downtown (‘downtown’ Anton scoffs, like Hartford is any bigger than Sudbury -- it’s smaller, for the record), and it’s a nice evening, so they do the half hour walk, wander into the first bar showing the Expos game.

They get spots at the bar, which Thomas kind of regrets when a vaguely familiar looking group relocates from a table towards the back.

“Tommy Vincent?” a guy says. “It’s been years, man, how are you?”

“Tommy,” Anton mouths. Thomas hates Tommy. Everyone on the Habs knows Thomas hates Tommy, because they get pelted with items until they stop calling him that. Once Thomas accidentally hit Carmen in the eye, and now he’s not allowed to throw things, coach’s orders, but he really, really hates Tommy.

“Hi?” Thomas says. 

“Johnny,” the guy -- Johnny -- supplies. “We had English together, dude.”

“Tommy,” Anton says under his breath, and Thomas kicks him. 

“Who’s your friend?” Johnny asks, oblivious. That pretty much pegs him as a non-fan -- Thomas does get a bit of this whenever he returns home, all local celeb crap, some Habs fans, some just happy for a local boy done good, but there isn’t a Habs fan in the world that would pick him over Anton, so.

“Tony,” Anton says, mouth curling up sardonically.

“Aren’t you Anton Petrov?” a pretty girl asks, and Thomas recognizes her as well, tagging along to Thomas’ games in AAA. He thinks her brother was one of their forwards.

“You can call me Tony,” Anton says, the smile a little more genuine.

Thomas orders them drinks and prepares for a long night. He’s right: by the bottom of the ninth Thomas is tired, and he doesn’t really want to stick around with a bunch of people who act like they’re his best friends just because they had grade nine English together. Also his actual best friend, but he’s been flirting with that girl since they got there and Thomas doesn’t want to like, cockblock or whatever.

He waits until she goes to the bathroom around eleven, then elbows Anton. “Gonna head out,” he says. 

“Sure,” Anton says, “let me just pay the bill.”

“No worries,” Thomas says, pulls the Winnie the Pooh key off his key ring. “House key.”

Anton’s mouth twitches. He’s mocking Thomas with his eyes.

“My mom made it,” Thomas says. “She thinks she’s funny.”

Anton’s eyes say that he too thinks Thomas’ mom is funny. 

“She’s not,” Thomas argues.

“How’re you getting in then?” Anton asks.

“My dad will still be up,” Thomas says with a shrug. “Get some.”

“Never say that again,” Anton says.

“Aye aye,” Thomas says. “Later bro.”

His dad is still up, and he lets Thomas in. “Anton?” he asks. 

“Still out,” Thomas says. “Didn’t want to end his night early just ‘cause I’m tired.”

His dad gives him a look he can’t figure out, then wishes him good night. Thomas crashes on the couch, and doesn’t wake up when Anton comes in, finds Anton asleep in his room when he gets up at ten.

Anton comes down an hour later, looking kind of rough.

“When’d you come in?” Thomas asks, and goes to make him coffee.

“Seven,” Anton says. “Your mom was leaving. She gave me the dirtiest look.”

“You’re paranoid,” Thomas says. “She was probably like, squinting at the sun.”

Anton wasn’t paranoid, though, weirdly enough, because when his mom comes home from work she basically ignores Anton’s existence, which is kind of insanely rude, and therefore not like his mom at all, because she’s a great host. His dad’s also acting weird. He, at least, seems to acknowledge that Anton’s at the table with them, though. 

Anton widens his eyes at Thomas from across the table, and Thomas nods agreement. After dinner Anton ducks out to Thomas’ room, probably to hide, and Thomas helps his mom with the dishes.

“Why are you being mean to Anton?” he asks.

“You know where Anton went last night?” she asks.

“Yes?” Thomas asks, not understanding. “He’s an adult, mom, he doesn’t have a curfew.”

“A walk of shame at seven in the morning?” she asks, and one, Thomas doesn’t want to know how she knows that phrase. Two, what the hell, mom.

“You’re not _his_ mom,” Thomas says. “You can’t get mad at him for like, premarital sex or anything.”

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Thomas asks.

She’s quiet for a minute. “You look at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen,” she says finally.

Thomas winces. “Okay, yeah,” he says. “But it’s not like that.”

Using the word ‘sexual’ in conversation with his mom, even in the context of the opposite, even once, is like two times too much. He kind of needs to, though, if he wants to have a hope in hell of her understanding. He’s not sure she does, but she listens, doesn’t interrupt, even when he might like her to, his face on fire.

“Mon petit chou,” she says softly, when he’s mostly wrapped up.

“So like, stop being mean to Anton,” Thomas mumbles.

“Okay,” she says, and gives him a hug. He rests his chin on the top of her head, because he knows it drives her crazy. “Does he know?”

Thomas doesn’t know if she means, like, his whole thing, or the Anton thing specifically. Either way, that’s a no. He shakes his head, grinding his chin into her hair. She pushes him back. “Brat,” she says. “Go see if Anton wants dessert.”

“Anton’s terrified of you right now,” Thomas says.

She narrows her eyes.

“Fine,” Thomas says. “Going.”

Anton is reluctant to come out, and Thomas doesn’t blame him. Ice cream is a motivator, though, and he comes down, wary. Thomas eyes his mother.

“You want two scoops, Anton?” his mom asks.

“Sure,” Anton says. “Thanks Hélène.”

Thomas shoots him a thumbs up. Anton gives him a thumbs up back without even rolling his eyes.

She only gives Thomas one scoop, which is blatant favoritism. Thomas pouts at her. 

“That’s all that was left, you baby,” she says.

“I’ll share with you,” Anton says quietly, and Thomas ducks his head. 

“Thanks buddy,” he says, and ignores the look his mom sends his way.

**Author's Note:**

> [The nickel!](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Nickel)


End file.
